Dawn's Rise
by NaomiSpice
Summary: AU - The major gangs of the 5 Great Nations live in a tense world of territorial control, black market access, and violence. Until the most notorious of them all, the Sound 5, vanish. Suspicions arise, alliances are made, and a new enemy emerges.
1. Chapter 1 - Hidan

The lights made her skin shine like the softest leather; the smoothest gold. Her hips swayed and rolled as she rose and fell against the pole. The stainless steel was cold against her warm skin, and sent chills down the back of her neck. She tossed her jet-black hair and sent him a wink.

All the stages were empty and dark, all except for one. The bar was vacant and all the seats were upturned atop the tables. The vixen's only observer was the head hitman himself, Hidan: Akatsuki.

"You think you know what you're doin' Bitch?" Hidan pointed at the woman's platinum heels on the stage. "Your feet are still on the floor."

Upon request, she groped the pole high, and hoisted herself into the air and sent herself spinning, flexing her stomach to remain in motion.

"Oh damn." Hidan took another gulp from the bottle of vodka in his hand. His deep magenta eyes watching her every move.

When her arms were about to give out, she let herself drop, and licked the gleaming metal pole, revealing the stud in her tongue. Hidan stood up from the black velvet couch, bottle still in-hand, and beckoned her down from the stage.

"Is that your stage uniform?" He asked, eyes aimed at her bubbly breasts.

She nodded and giggled, reaching behind her head to untie the halter to her glossy black bikini. Her breasts fell exposed, and Hidan set the near-empty bottle on the stage, leaning into her. He stroked the sides of her hourglass frame and took in her scent.

His touch was so light, the way his fingertips brushed her skin made her weak. She leaned her elbows on the stage, and let her head fall back, as his lips pressed to her collarbone.

The double doors across the room swung open; in walked a greasy-haired redhead with a facefull of piercings. His arms swung heavy at his sides- fists clenched. He felt uncomfortable in the suit he was wearing.

"Hey, asshole." Pain called, heading for his subordinate. "Don't you have work to do?"

Hidan ignored him, for the moment- murmuring sweet, seductive words into the performer's ear. She bit her lip hungrily.

"I said-" Pain reached Hidan, and gave his shoulder a shove, "You have work to do."

"What the fuck, man?" Hidan growled.

"Kakuzu's waiting. Make it quick, our window isn't as large as it was last time." Pain eyed the topless stripper before him, scoffed. "She's not supposed to play with customers."

"Who says I'm a customer?" Hidan smirked, "I'm a friend."

Pain rolled his eyes, "Get to work, dickbag." And left as quick as he came.

The girl Hidan had been toying with helped herself to the remaining vodka. Hidan watched her, and sighed.

She puckered her lips, "You have to go?"

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his slick silver hair. Then, from the pocket of his silk shirt, he pulled a folded hundred-dollar bill. Taking a few glances around him, he slipped it to her hand, and whispered, "Don't tell nobody, or you're a dead bitch."

He swiped his jacket from the couch, and headed out the double doors, around the corner to the elevator. Thoughts of what the next few hours could bring made Hidan's head throb like mad.

_Fuck it all. Those asshats don't need me for this job. This is such bullshit._

From the inner sleeve of his jacket, he pulled a cigarette and a lighter. As the elevator doors closed behind him, he let off the first breath. The fresh smoke cooled his head.

From F.13 to B1 the elevator slid, and with each passing floor, more grey clouds shrouded the air around him. Hidan tapped his foot anxiously. His cigarette was already half gone when the doors opened to the basement. It wasn't so much a basement, as it was a parking garage. Guest parking, employee parking, and of course, their loading dock.

Kakuzu's windowless black SUV was waiting at the exit of the garage. As Hidan stepped out, and sucked back the last of his cigarette, Kakuzu and Itachi climbed out of the SUV.

Itachi crossed his arms across his chest tightly, and eyed Kakuzu. Kakuzu was a big man. Easily 7 clicks above Hidan. The scars around his jaw and lips puffed out when he clenched his teeth.

"Hidan, you-"

"Shut your fuckhole, I'm here. Let's just get it done." Hidan threw the end of his dying cigarette to the concrete, and smashed it with his shoe. "Where are we going?"

Itachi replied, "Eastern district. We have to make it quick."

"What are we moving?" Hidan asked as they all loaded up into the SUV. The other two took the front; Kakuzu at the wheel. Hidan cupped his hands around his eyes in attempt to check out the cargo past the tinted glass behind the back seat.

"It's an exchange. Madara doesn't want to pull out another loan, so we're trading booze." Itachi was just as thrilled to be there as Hidan was.

"The cheap shit, I hope."

Kakuzu started the vehicle, and took the up ramp to the street parallel to Dawn's Rise. If it wasn't for Konan's business upstairs, they'd still be operating out of the dank Warehouse 6. Which was right next to Warehouse 7. It was better for everybody that the Akatsuki relocated to the inner city.

Hidan was starting to feel neglected, sitting in the back seat as he was. His foot started to bounce and his fingers tapped restlessly against the padded leather seats. Another three blocks passed. The high rises and corporate towers were soon replaced by short, dull, manufacturing plants and crusty brick complexes as they approached the edge of the city. It was familiar territory, but that didn't mean it was safe.

"Why isn't the shark coming along?" Hidan asked.

"Said he wasn't feeling friendly today." Kakuzu puffed, shifting to a lower gear as the SUV creeped through the chain link fence to the docks.

"Fuck him, seriously? Jashin help us all."

"I thought your god wasn't the helping sort." Itachi snickered.

"It's worth asking every once in a while. Damn, especially going on jobs with you two." Hidan rolled his eyes, pushing back the images of their countless mishaps and unexpected negotiations.

_They're just too stubborn. Hell, I can be stubborn- but there's a time to be smart about shit and let the other guy have it. At least it's only an exchange this time. Dealin's already been done._

The headlights' glow illuminated three figures in the night, just outside of Warehouse 7. Two men and one woman. Zabuza, Jinpachi, Ameyuri. Kakuzu stopped the car, and made sure to turn off the interior lights before sticking a handgun from the console in his back pocket as he stepped out. Itachi almost always went without a gun, but Hidan knew better. He reached into the console and pulled out another semi-automatic, and stashed it in the secret pocket inside of his leather jacket.

Hidan stepped out, and stood beside his comrades at the hood of the car. It was dark, but not impossible to see. A street lamp ten feet away and a dinky old light on the warehouse gave fair visibility.

"Can we make this quick? I have a bed I'd rather be in." The girl, 25, decked in denim spitefully requested.

"Got a fuck waiting for you or something?" Hidan chuckled, imagining the curvaceous redhead between his own sheets, only for an instant.

"No. Sleeping, you pervert." She snapped.

Itachi coughed, but Hidan could tell it was cover for a chuckle. Kakuzu took no humor. He never did.

One of the others spoke, "Before we do the exchange, I have a few inquiries."

It was Zabuza, the most social of the 7 Gunmen. All negotiations went through him, and his orders were stone solid.

"What questions do you have?" Kakuzu's hoarse voice broke the momentary silence between the parties.

"Have any of you heard anything about the _**Sound 5**_lately?"

Hidan scrunched his face; it wasn't the sort of question he was expecting. The clients weren't interested in the merch. But he honestly knew nothing.

Itachi looks to both Hidan and Kakuzu. Receiving no response, he replied, "Not really, no."

"That's the concerning part, am I right?" The third voice, Jinpachi, finally spoke up.

The Akatsuki three stayed quiet. Hidan shifted his weight under his feet, smearing the gravel below.

"No activity. For 2 months." Jinpachi continued, "_Odd_, isn't it?"

"Ain't my business-" Hidan hissed.

"You're right- it isn't your business, but it **might** be. We've heard rumors." Ameyuri's voice burst.

"What kind of rumors?" Kakuzu scoffed. He never was one to believe gossip. It was a petty pastime in his mind.

"They're gone."

"Gone?"

"Gone."

"Like…" Hidan smirked in the dark, "Somebody finally ganked them all?"

Ameyuri flared her nostrils back at him, "Listen to yourself. _All of them?_ Who would be able to pick them off all at the same time?"

Kakuzu had been contemplating the idea, "You think maybe mutiny?"

"No, they're too collectively driven." Zabuza, shirtless as always in a pair of rugged jeans, leans away from the side of Warehouse 7, "We think there's a bigger fish out there."

"Why are you asking us?" Itachi asked. "You think _we_ did this?"

"Not at all." Zabuza was quick to answer. "Just think we should keep our ears open."

The questions were cut short after that. I occurred to Hidan, Itachi, and Kakuzu, that some other force was at work. The Sound 5 were consistent with their work. Never any unusual breaks or sprees. Odd was… the softest way of putting it. It was unsettling. The most notorious team of killers- just… vanished.

* * *

_**This story is something I've never done before, both in POV style and in category. Never completed an Alternate Universe Fic before, but this one has me really excited. First Chapter is the Beta test. Yay or Nay?**_

_**~NaomiSpice**_


	2. Chapter 2 - Kisame

"Shark speaking."

I swear if he asks me one more time to increase the order-

"Hey." It was Hidan on the other line, "Boss wants an emergency meeting. Call Deidara."

"Why can't you call him?" Kisame rolled the plastic bag of powder into a clean sheet of butcher paper, holding a piece of tape between his lips.

"Because I don't want to, God damn it."

The line went dead after the last remark. After the tape had been pressed over the open crease of the package, Kisame took his phone from where it had been pinched between his ear and shoulder.

Reluctantly, he dialed Deidara's number, reaching for another plastic bag. The dial tone repeated, until it dropped.

"Fuck you too, dweeb." Kisame tossed his phone on the table. After staring at it, he tossed his spiky blue head back, and growled.

The responsibility hierarchy in this group is cat shit. But if I don't bring him, I'll get roasted for it.

Kisame stashed away the drugs in the utility door of the old arcade machine in his garage, and grabbed his keys. The sleek, black Corvette was waiting patiently- still and silent. Blood rushed with excitement through his veins as Kisame ran a hand across the hood. Zabuza never understood it, the way Kisame was so heart-struck by cars, but never women.

"What about her?" He'd say as he points out some woman walking by.

"Yeah? What about her?" Kisame would ask.

"Tch. Don't you ever get laid? I get it if it's not at the front of your mind, but."

"Just don't care."

And that was it. He just didn't care. Women always seemed to come and go. But a good car could last forever if you treated it right. A supercharged V-8 doesn't cry when you ride it too hard, it purrs. Like he'd been struck by lightning, a spark ignites in Kisame's cold blue heart as the engine awakens, rattling the air. His sharp teeth flash, and he was gone.

Kisame was the only one that lived in the suburbs- but he liked it that way. It was quieter, away from everybody else, and it gave him an excuse to go driving. He only disobeyed the speed limits a little. As the neighborhoods trickled away, Kisame turned off into the express lane, taking the long way around the other side of the city.

He never played the radio when he drove. All Kisame needed was the hum of the engine and the beat of each rhythmatic gear-shift to make music for his ears. Cars around him seemed to disappear, none of them mattered. He sped ahead and weaved between each one, until he was at the front of the custer, and gaining distance from them still.

Up Shift

If the car had a voice, it would be the rpm, she told him when she was ready to go faster, or slower. Women are too much work. They're too complex. Cars are simple, and honest.

The high rises and glittering skyline of the city drew closer, and the express lane rose into an overpass, grazing the city's edge like a swift blade. As the lane lead to a split, Kisame took the exit on the right, down to street level. Driving on raised overpasses made him feel like some automotive king on a throne, and now he was among peasants, driving on their mediocre streets as they drive cars they don't deserve.

He felt the need to drive with more caution. It wasn't worth it to trust other people to drive safe. Sometimes you have to be the actively safe one.

The buildings decreased in size, and seemed to age with every block. Deidara lived in the older part of town, with the graffiti artists and craftsmen. Before going to his flat, Kisame stopped at an old brick 2-story.

The sign read, "Urban Taboo Ink" and even though the neon read "Closed", there was a light on beyond the main parlor.

That loser is always here.

Kisame wasn't surprised when the front door (despite being closed) was unlocked. Upon letting himself in, he heard a woman's voice; laughter. For an instant, he worried about the reason why she was laughing. Shaking it off, Kisame followed the beam of light to one of the private studio offices; Deidara's personal office.

Knocking can't save me now. If I walk into something, hell, I walk into it. Probably why he didn't answer his phone.

Kisame pushed the door open with his knuckles, to find Deidara scraping ink into the ribs of a naked, lavender-haired girl, lounging on her stomach with a bottle of Jack Daniel's in her hand.

Okay, I can handle this much.

"Sup?" Deidara smiled.

"Uh, I came to get you because you failed to answer my call."

"I know. I figured you'd come anyway. I'm almost done here."

"Hey Kisame!" The girl turned to flash him a sweet smile. It was Heromi, Deidara's girl. From the looks of it, she was pretty wasted. Luckily, Deidara was only filling an old tattoo with color, rather than ripping her a new one.

Smart guy, I'd hate to be responsible for obeying a drunk woman's commands- especially if it involved a new tattoo.

"Hey there, uh, Heromi."

"Hey Kisame." She said again, this time much slower, "I have a friend who's single. And she's like, a total babe. I can hook you up!"

Kisame rubbed the side of his skull, "No thanks, I'm not really looking-"

"You always say that! C'mon she's super sweet. And get this- she loves cars. Actually, she welds at the body shop just a few blocks from here."

Kisame's heartbeat sped up- or maybe it slowed down, he couldn't tell. It made his stomach lurch.

A girl like that…

After another swig of whiskey, Heromi squealed, "Ouch! Babe that hurts."

"I know, I'm sorry. Almost done." Deidara lifts his electric pen, and kisses her soft skin.

Kisame felt like a third wheel. The most awkward situation he could ever be in. Because everything he owned either has two wheels or four. Three was just queer.

Then, ideal distraction arrived; Kisame's phone rang.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"You'd better be on your way. We don't have all night." Pain barked.

"As fast as I can. Had to pick up blondie."

"Fine." He sighed, "Don't take too long."

Kisame hung up, and turned back to Deidara, who was finishing up Heromi's ink work. "Hey man we gotta bounce."

"I know." he cleared his throat, set his equipment down, and peeled off his gloves.

"Thank you baby." Heromi slurred, awkwardly getting up from the chaise.

Kisame looked away politely as she stood, and moved to pick up her clothes from Deidara's desk.

"I'll be back later tonight." Deidara said with a kiss. He walked out past Kisame, "Let's get this over with, yeah?"

"Sooner the better." Kisame followed him out.

Along the way, Deidara grabbed a beer from a refrigerator in the lounge, cracking it open with one of his rings.

"What are you doing?" Kisame asked.

"What? You're driving right? So, I can enjoy my beverage."

"You will not be enjoying your beverage in my car."

"I'm not gonna spill it!"

"Not a risk I'm willing to take." Kisame took the bottle from Deidara's hand, and broke it against the sidewalk.

"Fine, Jesus." Deidara scowled.

Kisame felt more at ease, knowing that the interior of his car would remain pristine. With the Tattoo parlor out of the rear view, Deidara seemingly forgot the sour disposal of his drink and struck up conversation.

"Her name is Danny."

"Sorry?"

"The welder at the body shop. Heromi wasn't kidding. She could hook you up, if you want."

"Hm."

"Do you not like girls, dude? It's okay, you know, if you're swinging for the other team-"

"I'm not gay."

"Okay."

There was silence for a while. Kisame didn't know what to say, and Deidara was afraid to say anything more. But the thoughts roiled in Kisame's head like flies.

Just haven't met the right one. Maybe there isn't a right one. But to at least find one girl who isn't afraid of me… That's all.


	3. Chapter 3 - Konan

She was wearing a tight black vest over a white blouse; her hair was wrapped in an ornate bun per usual. The stray lavender strands fell wispily around her ears. She could feel his eyes all over her. They always were. But Konan pretended not to care.

Pain cleared his throat as he rested his elbows on the bar, "So, how have you been?"

"Same as always." She said with a sigh, not bringing her eyes to his.

"Are you busy later? I mean, after closing."

"I'll be busy sleeping. Come on, Pain, it's been a long week."

"I know. I was just wondering if you wanted to…"

Before Pain could finish his offer, Konan gently slid a scotch in front of him. She let her fingers fall away from the bent rim of the glass, and her eyes fell back to the floor. She hoped that a drink would move his thoughts away from her. He was a brooder when he drank. At least he was quiet.

"Thanks." He shrugged.

_You're welcome._

He cleared his throat before taking a gulp. Pain looked around with rejected eyes. Konan was trying to keep him occupied. She was pushing him away. And just like that, she walked away. Not to appear rude; she had a business to manage. Konan left the bar-tending to Naiomi, who was trying not to flirt with a customer across the bar.

The back of her head tickled lightly. Maybe he was watching her, but it could have been her imagination. As Konan made her way between the benches and tables, she curved around the front-right stage to a dense, industrial-sized door behind a heavy velvet curtain.

She made haste once she passed beyond its metallic threshold, her insides churned. A dancer wiped her brow as she stepped down from the rear curtain of the main stage. Konan took the first door on the right to her own office. Now that she was alone Konan's heart rate picked up, and her lungs began to panic.

_I can't tell him. I can't tell him._

Konan wasn't alone for a minute- when there was a knock at her door. She paused, holding her breath and trying to remain calm as she opened it. Pain ran his hands through his greased, spiky red hair. He tapped his foot nervously.

"Hey uh. Look-"

Konan scowled, "No. You can't be back here. It is literally against my own rules to allow customers past the curtains."

Pain rolled his eyes, "I don't care!" He leaned in closer, before looking over his shoulder. "What happened to us? What did I do?"

Konan pretended to look uninterested, "Nothing. You did nothing."

"Then why haven't we had a regular conversation for over a week, huh?"

_I can't tell him. I-_

Pain looked anxious. He flicked his lip ring with his teeth, "Fine. Fine. You don't wanna talk about it." He looked away, leaning off from the doorframe.

"I'm working, Pain." Konan watched as Pain shook his head, and stepped off. It was always the best excuse but also the worst, because it shouldn't have to be.

Konan shut the door again. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so they say. The emotions came rushing back through her chest. habitually, she let herself fall onto the red suede sofa adjacent to her desk.

"_Touch me."_

Her own voice whispered into her ears, and Pain's imaginary touch glazed her skin. Konan shot up from the sofa.

_It might as well be cursed._

Konan's memories pressed deep into her eyelids. Blinking embedded them into her sights like sunspots. An entourage of dancers giggled backstage, passing close to the door. It's just one night, Konan told herself. She had to get through it. Like a magnet, her eyes located the clock across her desk.

11:09 P.M.

_I can make it. I'm not really here for me, afterall._

It was Konan's floor, she paid lease and stocked the shelves herself, but it wasn't all about the profits. The stage was a sanctuary. A place where these smart, beautiful girls could make a pretty penny to step out of a tougher life. Every policy Konan signed them for protected them.

"_Alena, Alena don't cry." _Konan clutched the young girl by the shoulders.

"_He- he was going to grab me!"_

"_He can't grab you sweetheart."_

"_I can't dance anymore… I haven't recovered."_

"_That's fine. I want you to be comfortable. Can you work the bar for me?"_

Alena nodded, wiping away her tears with shaky hands.

"_He can't grab you. Nobody can grab you. Any man that does, violates my house rules, and I will sue. You're safe here."_

If only there had been a place like that for her when she needed it. But no- it was a tough life. Sometimes Konan thinks it always will be. With a balled fist, she marched back out from the curtained doorway, back out to the dim lights and deep sensual rock jams. Konan's hand fearfully grazed her stomach, pretending to fiddle with the button of her blouse.

_I can't tell him yet._


	4. Chapter 4 - Deidara

"I'm not gay."

"Okay."

_I'm hooking you up. _

Danny's a real stubborn chick, almost as stubborn as The Shark. Might be good for them both. Heromi's got smart friends. Danny is like that too- real sharp and stuff. Airheads don't stay quiet about our kind of work, that much they've learned from experience- the hard way.

"If I can't drink, can I at least have a smoke?" Deidara asked, rolling the window down.

Kisame hesitated, but gave in, "Yeah."

Deidara slid the pack of cherry cigarillos and a flip-open lighter from his jacket pocket. Streetlights blurred by as Kisame cruised through empty backstreets to the harbor. But as they drove by, Kisame pulled into the turn lane, and entered the shipyard.

"Ay, wait. Aren't we meeting back at the rise?"

"Yeah. Just gotta check in real fast."

Deidara lifted the shrinking cigarette from the corner of his cheek, "With your boyfriend?"

Kisame shot him a sharky glare, before aggressively yanking up the parking brake, "Stay here. Won't be long."

After his last cherry-coated drag, Deidara flicked the butt of his smoke out to the street. Then, his cell phone rang.

"Hey."

"Baby I can't find my keys, did you see them at the studio?" It was Heromi; rustling sounds came from the background as she probably shuffled through her purse.

"Aw, no I didn't see them. We can look again tomorrow. Did you walk?"

"Yeah. Taz wasn't able to drive me." her words were still running together slightly.

Deidara drew his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and pinched lightly, "I'm sorry. Do you wanna take the U-train to the Rise? We're having a meeting. We can stay at the suite tonight."

"Yeah- I can do that. See you soon, then."

"Be safe."

Deidara remained on the line, until Heromi disconnected. He never let her go anywhere on her own at night. Especially after drinking the way she did. He tried to shake away the worried thoughts, when he saw Kisame come back around the vehicle from Warehouse 7.

"We good?" Deidara raised a brow to the muscular blue beast next to him.

"Yeah. Hope we're not too late."

"Did everybody get a call?" Deidara checked his phone for any missed voicemails.

"Should have. I was only told to call you."

"Alright."

Kisame revved the engine, and pushed out of the chain link gates to the shipyard. From the outskirts, he navigated the underpasses and busted through yellow lights like he was in a car chase.

"Jeezus, man. Can you go any faster?"

Kisame didn't reply.

"What was your beef at the warehouse anyway?"

"It's not important." Kisame down-shifted harshly.

_Of course it was important, you slimy fish. But you __**left**_ _the Seven Gunmen - remember? I know we're not raw enemies or nothing, but you don't cross-over like that whenever you want. They can't be trusted._

"We're gonna be late." Deidara chimed.

"I don't give a shit. At least we're showing up at all."


	5. Chapter 5 - Pain

It had been a while; business was going well. When business goes well, they didn't have to see much of each other. The money just flows in. Something was up.

Pain was leaning back in a black suede armchair with one leg crossed over the other. The muscles under his cheeks twitched as he glanced at his watch.

Where they fuck are those imbeciles?

He gazed around the room. Hidan, Kakuzu, Itachi, Sasori, were all seated around the lounge. Madara paced slowly as he let a fat cigar burn between his teeth. It wasn't a pleasant sight.

Those two are gonna get their asses kicked whether they show up or not.

The doors flew open, with Deidara and Kisame shuffling in like they weren't late at all. They casually seated themselves among the others. Kisame tapped his knee anxiously.

Madara was silent. Smoke swirled in the air around him like snakes. As he rapidly turned, the smoke dissipated. "Now that we're all here," he pulled the cigar out of his mouth and tapped the burned end into the metal ashtray on his desk, "There's been some… unfortunate news going around."

Pain watched the faces of each person in the room. Most faces were blank. Deidara seemed the least concerned. Hidan was chewing on the inside of his lip, with his brows together.

Not sure if he needs a hit, or if he's actually scared.

"The Sound 5 are dead." Madara stated.

Pain's eyes left the faces of his comrades and darted back to his superior. Madara was half-smiling, half-scowling.

"Well, that's good right?" Deidara scoffed.

"Yeah it's super convenient. Now there's some other fucking sick bastard out there who knows how to mutilate a bitch better than Sakon can." Hidan sarcastically jutted in.

Deidara retracted, realizing it was the truth.

"There's a bigger fish." Kakuzu groaned.

"Who the hell could have done that..." Kisame's eyes were wide, "and lived?"

Madara was about to answer, when the door to the office cracked open, and Konan walked in with a platter of drinks. She set them on the coffee table, "Let me know if I need to bring the bottle. Can I get you guys anything else?"

Pain looked away. Please don't look at me. He thought.

"That should be all. Thank you for the hospitality, sweetheart." Madara winked in Konan's direction. She didn't seem flattered.

"You're all welcome to stay in the Rise tonight. I've had your rooms made-up." Konan sent a hospitable nod to the group, before closing the door behind her.

At first, nobody took a drink from the tray. It wasn't allowed to help yourself unless the boss said you could, or if he took his pick first.

Madara snatched a glass by the rim, and slowly, everyone else did the same. "I think it's safe to say that we're not all that safe anymore. Well, not that we were really all that safe before, but there's a greater threat to keep aware of." He continued.

"You don't think the government did this? 'Kage finally just off'ed them all?" Kisame scowled in thought.

"No, it's not like that. If the shinobi did it, there'd be arrests announced." Sasori leaned forward in his chair, fingers interwoven.

Madara let his inferiors speak as he finished his drink, "I have reason to believe it's the work of Hebi-Taka. I've been listening to street chatter."

"Heh." Itachi laughed, "It wouldn't surprise me, actually."

"You mean… The Sound 5 got taken-out by a clutch of noobs?" Deidara tried to hold in his laughter.

Madara gave a smug frown, "It's something to look into."

"What did the Gunmen say?" Pain asked, directing his question to any of the boys who went out to Warehouse 7 earlier that night.

Hidan cleared his throat, "They aren't sure. But they want to stay close to us. For protection."

Kisame silently nodded to himself.

"Conflict between us has been absent for some time…" Madara crossed his arms, "Kisame, do you think they'd take up an offer of permanent alliance?"

"It's worth a try. I'd be willing to ambassador for it."

"We can set that up another time." Madara addressed the group, "Get some sleep you thugs. We'll meet again on Tuesday. In the mean time, keep doing what you're doing and keep your ears open."

The Akatsuki left Madara's office, and took a moment to converse in the hall. Pain stood to the side, debating the next mark on his agenda.

"I'm turning in. Heromi and I are staying here for the night." Deidara turned away.

Hidan hollered back with a sick smirk, "Tell her I'll be here too. She can keep me company if she gets bored of you."

Deidara flipped him the bird without turning back down the hall.

Sasori chuckled, "I'll stay here too I guess. Might call Tenten."

"Da fuck, man? Isn't she too old for you?" Hidan raised an eyebrow.

"I'm older than I look."

"Yeah you keep saying that. How old are you exactly?"

"Not gonna say."

"That's what somebody who was too young would say." Kisame smiled through his cheek jowls.

"I'm still convinced he's 12. That's why we don't see him during the day. He's off in grade school doing his times-tables." Hidan preached to the group. Everyone got a good chuckle from it.

"I'm gonna turn in. See you Tuesday." Pain stuffed one hand into the front pocket of his jeans, and ran the other through his spiky red hair.

Pain walked alone to the corridor where his room was. The last time he had been there, Konan was with him. And she was wearing that tight, silk and lace red bra. But she didn't wear it for too long.

Pain slid the magnetic key through the slit on the handle and remembered the way she smiled at him that night. How victorious he felt as a man. Madara had been after her for weeks - months even. But she chose him: the lousy second-in-command.

Konan trains all the girls herself. Before she opened The Rise, Konan was the main attraction at a place called Twister's Nightclub. She made thousands in a single show. Pain remembered the first night he saw her: Madara had heard of her show, and paid for the whole gang to watch.

Pain chuckled to himself at remembering the look on Madara's face when her silhouette faded, and the hot pink and blue lights illuminated her radiant skin for the first time. He was practically drooling.

Konan wasn't like the other showgirls. She was soft, sensual, and always danced barefoot. After her spotlight show, men would line up around the block to get a lap dance from "The Satin Fox", as they called her. Madara bragged for weeks about how he got the most intense case of blueballs from her that night. But he paid an arm and a leg for it.

And there he was, 4 months later, getting one for free. But the cost never mattered. She was a brilliant woman. She saw the truth in people, always. Pain couldn't figure out what it was that made her shut him out. The thought pounded his brain until he found sleep on the couch in his room.


	6. Chapter 6 - Madara

**Author's Note:**

**This chapter contains graphic events and language. The rating (M) for this fanfiction still stands.**

* * *

Madara was the last to leave the conference room. He reclined in the sleek, leather armchair, smoking the rest of his cigar. He was waiting for her. She always comes in and cleans up after the gang has drinks. She never had any of her personal maids to it - Why? So she could come and see him of course.

As if on-que, Konan lightly knocked on the thick, mahogany door before entering. Madara said nothing. He watched as she gathered the empty glasses, sliding them on the mirrored tray.

"Is there anything else I can get you, Madara?"

"You know what I want…"

Another python of smoke slithered through the air. Konan looked up at him, and waited.

"It's been so long, sweetheart. What's got you keeping your distance?"

"Nothing." Her eyes fell, and she aimlessly re-stacked the glasses on the tray.

Madara stood, and made his way over to her as he pulled the last breathe of life from his cigar, before extinguishing it on the glass tray. The ashes crumbled under the weight of the end, and left a ring of warm fog as he pushed it further against the glass. He watched the reflection of her face in its shimmering surface.

Even he could feel his notorious smirk forming along his lips, "Have a drink with me."

"No thanks."

"That wasn't a request." His hands grabbed at her hips to find the edge of her jeans. His thumbs followed the stitching around her body, and let them hang on the two front belt-loops.

Her head fell back, and Madara pressed his chest against Konan's delicate shoulders.

"How about that drink?"

Konan pulled her head back up, and stepped to the side. Madara's hands were ripped out of their resting place on her hips.

"No, Madara."

He had a temper - Madara knew that much. His teeth clenched and the heat from his rapid heartbeat boiled blood as it rushed to his head.

"If it wasn't for me, you'd still be shoving singles under your mattress, and a knife under your pillow at night. I saved you from that rotten, fucking ghetto and this is how you thank me?"

Madara grabbed hold of Konan's arm above her elbow, then reached down to scoop up her legs. He was too fast and too strong for her to object.

"Madara - please! N-no!"

He was quick. Madara could set a record for getting a woman out of her clothes. But that record tripled if it didn't require her clothes to be all in once piece.

"I own you - bitch."

Konan's vest, shirt, and bra were torn away; buttons snapping off like bottletops. He unbuckled and whipped out her belt, before slapping it against her breasts, and pulling it tight to re-buckle it from behind.

She cried out, and tried to fight his grip. Madara knocked over the tray of glasses as he anchored her arms under her torso, and pressed her hard into the table. He smacked her ass and then crept his hand down to tenderize the insides of her thighs with his palm.

Her cries turned to moans; which he mistook for pleasure. Madara growled, "You owe me - You owe me, cunt!"

Konan's voice quivered, "No, Madara, don't - Let me go!"

Madara couldn't hear her anymore. Blood was pumping so loudly in his ears; all he could hear was the coo of her drowned voice, like a distant hum.

Another low growl shook from between his clenched teeth. With a free hand, Madara loosened his own belt, and slipped his raging cock out from his jeans.

"Take it - bitch!" Madara rammed his pelvis against her ass, as he groped her right cheek open. His left hand still held firm around both of her small wrists, he pulled her back, causing Konan to scream as her spine arched in reverse.

He thrusted harder, and harder, pulling her into him each time. He deserved to get what he wanted, after everything he'd done for her. She should have been on her fucking knees for him tonight. She should be on her knees for him every night. Madara would make sure she knew that.

"I want you to whine for me. Whine like you mean it!"

But the rage in his senses was too thick for him to tell. Now he was getting bored. Madara pulled out, and yanked her away from the table by the belt that bound her chest. He let her fall to the floor.

"Ma...da...ra!" She sobbed, "Stop this!"

"I'll stop when I fucking want to!" Madara licked his lips, then spat on her hair as he kicked her in the ribs. She coiled in response, but her arms were trapped by the belt around her torso. Madara flipped her on her back, and took her again.

When the pressure in his veins came down and his blurred, reddened vision became clear, Madara stood up from his knees. He pulled his pants on, but didn't bother re-buttoning his shirt.

He stared at her as she lay on the floor. Lines of tears glistened on her cheeks, and down her neck. Madara reached into his back pocket and flipped open a knife. With one swift tug, he slashed up through the leather belt that bound her.

Without a word from either of them, he left.


	7. Chapter 7 - Sasuke

Manda was a cold-blooded torturing machine. Sasuke often thought that the python enjoyed torture more than he did. A nameless man struggled on the cold basement floor to keep his breath in his lungs and his eyes in his sockets as the snake coiled around his chest and neck.

"It's bad manners to start rumors." Sasuke mumbled, then snapped his fingers.

Upon command - but more for pleasure - Manda flexed around the man's neck, until it snapped.

Sasuke Uchiha turned away, and returned to the home corridor. There were a few flecks of blood on his black wifebeater, but ignored it. His thoughts were elsewhere.

_Everybody is going to hear about this. Worse. They will assume we did it. This could get us all killed._

"Sasuke - Hey." Jugo leaned out from his doorway. Sasuke turned in response, "What's next for us?"

He sighed, "Karin is abducting a couple of stock accounts. Once she finishes, we should be able to make some fast cash."

Jugo hesitated, "Then what?"

Sasuke walked away. Jugo didn't object. It wasn't his place, nor would it achieve anything. He shifted back into his room, and picked up his free weights, continuing his reps.

Sasuke pulled off his shirt once he was back in his room. They had been occupying the old basement of the Konoha hospital for about a month. Their previous hideout had been exploited twice in one night. Once by the Konoha Shinobi forces, and then by the Akatsuki. Itachi Uchiha was of course involved. It was no big deal that the other gangs knew the obvious whereabouts of the 7 Gunmen, or the Akatsuki Rise. They were too big and powerful to fuck with, Sound 5 included. Crossing into their territory was reason enough to get yourself killed. Small operations like Hebi-Taka were different. Stealth was their ally, and any falut in it could break it all apart.

Sasuke scolded himself. It was entirely his fault that Itachi ever discovered him. As Karin put it, "We were stepping into territory that was unsafe. It wasn't _theirs_ \- but unfriendly mouths spoke to unfriendly ears. We have got to be more careful."

They had little furniture, but managed to escape authorities with most of their equipment and weapons. Karin had caught wind of a Shinobi transmission just shy of an hour before they arrived at their flat. The Shinobi called it a false alarm, and vacated. From Hokage mountain, Sasuke and his team watched as the Akatsuki moved in shortly after, and raided everything.

It pissed Sasuke off just thinking about all the money the Akatsuki made off with that night. Millions had been stashed under the floorboards and in the walls behind the cabinets. Such an efficient system **Hebi-Taka** had. Karin had her computer setup and mobile lab perfected. Money was flowing so easily, even Jugo and Suigetsu were getting along. Karin would press a button, access a network, and could track anything. Ship, plane, armored vehicle, you name it. They would intercept it before the cash ever reached its destination.

As if it couldn't get any worse. Now the Sound 5 were gone - and somebody with a stupid idea decided to blame Hebi-Taka. Maybe the Sound 5 were gone, or dead. But Sasuke and his gang were by no means responsible. They were too broke to notice or care.

Sasuke stared at the largest wall in his room. He kept maps, names, routes, and informants from their last operation pinned to the peeling wallpaper. There wasn't much left. Karin didn't even store data of that kind on her pc. It was a mistake Hebi-Taka learned the hard way. Backup, backup, backup.

From down the hall, Sasuke heard Suigetsu knock on a door. Jugo answered.

"Hey. Did Sasuke finish up with that guy? I have to take out the trash."

"Think so."

"Did he get any more information from him?"

"Not sure." Jugo was short and blunt with Suigetsu these days.

"Great. So we have nothing to go off of!"

Sasuke imagined Suigetsu throwing his scrawny arms in the air while Jugo shrugged his thick shoulders, "Maybe."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah."

"Did he say what the plan was next?"

"No."

Suigetsu paused, "Did you… _**ask**_?"

"Yes."

"And he didn't tell you? Fack! He has no plan. You know that, right? Even a thug like you should be able to pick that up."

Sasuke pictured Jugo stepping into Suigetsu's face, as he said, "It's not my business."

The argument in the hall ceased, but Sasuke was sure they both walked away with opinions. Suigetsu was getting impatient, but he isn't clever enough to do anything on his own. Jugo is more than capable, on the other hand. For reasons Sasuke doesn't understand, he suppresses his ideas, and supports Sasuke's lead. It helped to know that Jugo would always have his back, but sometimes Sasuke wondered if Jugo had the solutions he could never find.

_What do you do, when you've been accused of ganking the most dangerous hitmen in the region? Deny and flee? Or own up to it, and gain powerful reputation?_


End file.
